This Woven Kingdom(This Woven Kingdom #1)(38)
The prince frowned. This was too much to process. “You say she is the sole surviving heir to an ancient kingdom. But wouldn’t that make her—”
“Yes,” said his grandfather. “Yes. She is, among her people, considered a queen.”
Kamran took a sharp breath. “Why have you never told me about this? That there are other kingdoms in Ardunia?”
Zaal touched two fingers to his temple; he looked suddenly tired. “They died out thousands of years ago. They are not like us, Kamran; they do not pass down their line through their children. They claim their sovereigns are chosen by the earth, marked by the infinite cold they were once forced to endure. It is said that the ice chooses only the strongest among them, for there are very few who can survive the brutality of the frost inside the body.” A pause. “Surely you must see that she is not some ordinary girl.”
“And yet— Forgive me, but she seems wholly unaware of who she is. She lives a life of the lowest status, spends her days doing backbreaking labor. Do you not think—”
“That she might be ignorant of her own self? Of what she might be capable?”
“I do think it’s possible, yes, that she doesn’t know. She appears to have no family—perhaps no one has told her—”
King Zaal laughed again, though sadly this time. “Ice runs through the girl’s veins,” he said, shaking his head. “Ice so rare it is revered, even as it damages the body. That kind of power leaves its marks, child. The girl no doubt carries the proof of her identity on her own flesh—”
“Your Majesty—”
“But yes, yes, let us pretend. For your sake let us pretend and say you are right, that she does not know who she is. What then?” The king steepled his hands under his chin. “If you do not think there are others searching for her right now, you are not paying close enough attention. Pockets of unrest in the Jinn communities continue to disturb our empire. There are many among them deluded enough to think the resurrection of an old world is the only way to move forward.”
Kamran’s jaw tensed. He did not appreciate the condescension in his grandfather’s tone. “Indeed I am well aware,” he said flatly. “I would humbly remind my grandfather that I was away from home for over a year, overseeing our armies, witnessing such accounts firsthand. It is not the threat I misunderstand, Your Highness, but the tactic. To take a preemptive strike against an innocent young woman— Would it not be worse? What if our actions against her were discovered? Would that not result in greater chaos?”
For a moment, King Zaal was silent.
“It is indeed a risk,” he said finally. “But one that has been thoroughly considered. If the girl were to claim her place as the queen of her people, it is possible, even with the brace of the Fire Accords, that an entire race would pledge their allegiance to her on the basis of an ancient loyalty alone. The Accords would be forgotten in the time it took to light a torch. The Jinn of Ardunia would form an army; the remaining civilians would riot. An uprising would wreak havoc across the land. Peace and security would be demolished for months—years, even—in the pursuit of an impossible dream.”
Kamran felt himself growing irritated and forced himself to remain calm. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, if we can imagine our Accords so easily broken, should we not be compelled to wonder what makes them brittle? If the Jinn among us would move so easily to revolt—to pledge allegiance to another—should we not first consider addressing the dissatisfaction that might move them to revolution? Perhaps if they felt more reason to be loyal to us, they would not—”
“Your idealism,” King Zaal said sharply, “is romantic. Diplomatic. And unrealistic. Can you not see my motivation for the establishment of the Accords? The entire reason I so desperately sought the unification of the races was to get ahead of the prophecy, to suture together the two groups so the Jinn could not be so easily claimed by a new sovereign—”
“My apologies,” Kamran bit out angrily. “I thought you established the Accords to bring peace to our empire, to finally end the unnecessary bloodshed—”
“And that is precisely what I did,” King Zaal thundered, more than matching his grandson’s tone. “Your own eyes cannot deny it. You have seen since the day you were born that my every effort has been in the service of our people. With my very life I’ve tried always to prevent war. To circumvent tragedy. To protect our legacy.
“One day, Kamran, I’ve no doubt you will be a great king. Until then there is much you do not see, and a great deal more you must try to anticipate. Tell me: can you imagine such a revolt finding success?”
“Does it matter?” the prince nearly shouted.
King Zaal raised his chin, drew a sharp breath.
“Forgive me.” Kamran lowered his eyes and collected himself. “But does it matter whether they are capable of success? Is there not a greater danger, Your Highness, in demanding obedience from unwilling subjects? And should any sovereign be satisfied with the tenuous allegiance of a people merely biding their time, waiting for the right moment to unleash their anger—to revolt? Would it not be wiser to allow such a people a voice now—to cool their anger now—in the interest of preventing an eruption later?”
“You are quite good,” his grandfather said coldly, “at taking clear and logical arguments and elevating them to a level so esoteric they are rendered ineffectual.